why?

Why does it take 4 hours to see a doctor at an emergency room on a Thursday night when there’s only 12 people in the waiting room?

Why does the nurse, the doctor, the sign in person, and three or four other hospital workers have to ask you the same 37 questions about latex allergies and how the pain feels on a scale of one to ten?

Why does every size hospital gown leave a smidge of butt showing in the back?

Well, these questions are funny and aggrevating, but guess what? None of them matter when someone you love is in the hospital.

One moment you’re joking about the wildest circumstances, and the next you’re being told by the doctor that it’s more serious than they first thought.

Nothing else really matters at that point. Nothing at all.

Christ told us not to worry about things that aren’t important.

Boy, was he all over that one, or what?